Doctor Who: Rebirth of the Goji
by NancyBG-OldMaidWhovian
Summary: The Doctor and Clara stumble upon an ancient race in London, with ties to the Weeping Angels. As with all my stories, this is straight-forward canon. NOTE: I changed the title, cos it I wasn't happy with it.
1. Chapter 1

_Authors note: Since I'm writing this as much as a year (or more—I don't get BBC America) before I'll ever see Peter Capaldi's Doctor, I'm just sort of winging it with his character. So to anyone reading this after Series 8 airs, please be aware of that I am writing this story completely in the dark. I've no clue whatsoever what Series 8 holds in store. NBG_

Doctor Who: Rise of the Goji

Chapter 1

Under the harsh, unforgiving orange glow of a street lamp, the little boy in the striped pyjamas stood. He was looking down at the empty pavement. His face was unusually blank, devoid of all expression. The boy didn't seem aware of the cold pavement seeping into the soles of his bare feet. His glassy eyes seemed fixed upon an old oil stain. The other arm hung limply at his side. A chilly night breeze ruffled the boy's neatly trimmed dark hair.

A milk float turned down the street. It's bottles clanked together gently, disturbing the cloak of silence that comes before the dawn. The noise echoed off the bricks of the terraced homes lining both sides of the street, making it seem even louder. The boy was oblivious. Seeing the boy, the driver frowned and brought his vehicle to stop. When the boy still didn't seem to take notice of the float parked in front of him, the driver, a tired looking middle aged man, got out.

"What's this then?" The milk float driver stood looking down at the boy. Then he glanced up and down the deserted street. "You shouldn't be out alone this time of morning. You'll catch your death. Where are your parents? Are you lost?"

When the boy still didn't answer, the driver squatted down on his heels and peered into the boy's face. "Now. What's wrong, little fella? Are ya' sleep walkin' or som'thin'?"

Only then did the boy look up at the man. In a plaintive, frightened voice he said, "It's just a dream, then? I've been hoping it was only a dream."

"Well you seem quite awake now." The driver smiled reassuringly.

"But where's Margaret?" The little boy asked tremulously, "She always wakes me up when I have bad dreams. Says it's worse than my snoring."

"Margaret?" The float man asked hopefully. "Is that your sister?"

Unfortunately the little boy seemed to drift off into his own world again. After a few more unsuccessful tries to get some information out of the child, the man pulled out his mobile and dialed 999.

_##_

"Is that what you call parking?" Clara asked the Doctor as he was attempting to enter the TARDIS.

"Is that what you humans call nagging?" The Doctor shot back, trying to squeeze through the open door.

The TARDIS had been parked at the entrance to an alleyway, nearly flush with the road. A white van had parked directly in front of it, leaving scant space between it and the TARDIS doors.

"I'm not nagging! I was asking a question." Clara said.

"I'm not the one who parked in front of a van. He parked in front of me." The Doctor answered indignantly. "What is it with white vans, anyway?"

"The driver was probably miffed at you for blocking the alley. Can't you program this thing to recognize No Parking signs or something?"

"What sign? What are you talking about?" He gave a satisfied grunt as he managed to get one leg through the gap in the door. The Doctor grimaced as he felt a seam start to give way in his dark trousers.

"That sign there."

Clara pointed to a sign posted on the wall of the alley, just above the TARDIS. It was painted white with black letters which read, '_No Parking. Private Road. Keep Clear._"

"Right. I'll just put your suggestion in my thousand year diary under 'things to do, shall I?" The Doctor answered curtly, carefully extracting his leg from the gap.

"What now?" She looked around, but no one seemed to be about. "Do we knock on doors to see who owns this thing? Or should we find a pub somewhere and wait for him to leave?"

"Neither, I think." The Doctor said to her. "I'll just move the van myself and we'll be laughing."

"How do you propose to do that?" Clara looked at him askance. "I mean, without either of us getting a hernia?"

"With my sonic screwdriver, of course. Nothing better for opening a door." He told her a trifle smugly.

A flash of red showed from the lining of his suit, as he slipped his hand to an inside pocket and produced his trusty device.

"Unless the door is already unlocked." Clara said, reminding him of the time his two other selves spent hours in a dungeon in the Tower of London, believing themselves to be locked in.

Walking over to the van, Clara tried the driver's side door. Raising an eyebrow, she could barely suppress a grin as it swung open.

"I'll still need the sonic to start the engine." He huffed.

"Not if the keys are still in it." Clara couldn't help it. She was smiling now, trying not to laugh as she climbed up into the seat.

"I have an idea, Clara." The Doctor suggested, giving her baleful look. "Why don't you get in and move the van?"

"I have a better idea, mate." Came a young male voice from behind them. "Why don't I arrest the pair of you for trying to nick that van?"

The Doctor turned around. And found himself staring into the face of a young policeman.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

The Doctor and Clara had been hustled inside the Coal Hill police headquarters by the young policeman. But as he was leading them to the cells, a fight broke out ahead between several drunken football fans. Being called to assist, the policeman ordered his handcuffed prisoners to seat themselves on a nearby bench and stay put.

Next to them on the bench was another prisoner. The old man leaned towards Clara and spoke to her. She jerked her head back as her nose was assaulted by his beery fumes. She was worried he might be trying to get a peek down her blouse. Thank goodness she decided to wear her black cardigan that morning.

"Mambrota ma girsh?" He asked her.

"Sorry?" Clara wondered if he was speaking in Welsh or Gaelic.

"Agron bandivo cranty." The elderly man replied.

Clara shrugged and glanced at the Doctor. "What's he want then?"

"I haven't the foggiest idea, Clara." The Doctor shrugged back, causally watching the fight raging in the hallway.

One of the prisoners had gotten loose and was swinging a potted plant like a cricket bat.

"But...I thought the TARDIS had that translation circuit thingy. Why isn't it working?"

"Probably because it can't, in this instance."

She gave him a puzzled look. "Hold on. I thought you said the TARDIS could translate any language?"

"Clara," the Doctor explained patiently, "the TARDIS can translate your speech into, 'I surrender' in Sontaran. It can tell you which switch is for the bomb, and which one opens the door. It can even keep you from saying something stupid in French, like, 'That toilet smells delicious'. But what it can't do, is translate drunk. Sorry."

"Oh. Yeah, right." Clara responded, feeling somewhat foolish for not realizing the obvious.

"You might try talking to him very slowly and very loudly." The Doctor suggested.

"Why would I want to do that?"

"Isn't that what your lot does when you can't understand what the other person is saying?"

"Not...all the time." Clara admitted begrudgingly. "And what's with this 'your lot' stuff? You are beginning to sound like a human bigot, Doctor."

"What, me?" He looked at her in surprise. "Never! I'll have you know that humans are quite my favourite species."

The drunk leaned past Clara and said to the Doctor, "Taken mato thath urgh tran."

"No, still no clue." The Doctor shook his head, gently pushing the drunk back in place. The old man swayed back and forth as if he were made on a spring, before slumping down again. "How 'bout you, Clara? Any ideas?"

"Take me to the ugly train?" Clara suggested.

But the Doctor was no longer listening. He'd spied a little boy in bare feet and pyjamas standing nearby, his hand held by a police woman. His eyes narrowed as he took in the boy's blank expression, and clothing.

"You're not going to believe this one, Safara." The officer manning the desk told the woman. "But upstairs called down a few minutes ago. They say this little lad has prints on file."

"Not so surprising, Charlie." The police woman replied. "His mum and dad probably did one of those C.I.P. cards. Don't they include thumbprints?"

"It's not a child identification card they have on file. It's an arrest record. Wonton or furious driving in...2003. Let off with a fine and one hundred hours of community service, so they tell me."

Safara frowned at the man behind the desk. "That can't be right. Perhaps it is the boy's father?"

"With the same fingerprints?" Charlie asked skeptically. "You know that no two fingerprints are ever alike. Still," he scratched his chin. "Wouldn't hurt to check out the address. Take the child along with you. And have your partner wait near the car. In case you need him on the radio to contact children's services."

As Safara went back out of the building with the child in tow, the young constable had finally helped to corral the brawlers and send them on their way to the cells. He then returned his attention to his own prisoners. Charlie was startled a moment later when the young man cried out in alarm. He was staring incredulously at a bench against the far wall, on which sat a sleepy drunk. And two pairs of handcuffs.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

"I don't suppose you're going to tell me where we're going?" Clara asked breathlessly, following closely behind the Doctor's running feet.

"I'm following that car. Which I won't be able to do if you keep interrupting me." The Doctor answered bluntly. He'd pointed to a police vehicle parked on the kerb, where the constable named Safara was putting the boy into the back seat.

Pulling out his sonic once more, the Doctor adjusted its settings on the fly. As the car sped away, the Doctor pointed the sonic after it. Behind them, back at the police station down the road, Clara could hear the distant shouts of police officers alerted to their escape.

"So basically we're being chased by the police, while chasing the police. Only you could come up with that little scenario." Clara told him.

"Thanks." The Doctor nodded, oblivious to her sarcasm. "Now, did you see which way they went?"

The pair of them had come to a cross street. The police car was no longer in sight.

"No idea. Sorry." Clara panted, bending down with her hands on her knees to catch her breath. They'd been running for nearly half a mile, past shops and cafes. "But wherever it is, we'd better find them soon. Or get back to the TARDIS. I have enjoyed traveling with you, Doctor. But to be honest, when I came on board I didn't exactly envision spending ten years as a guest of Her Majesty's prison service."

"Nonsense. Taking a vehicle without consent? First offense—it is your first offense, isn't it? You'll probably get fined and sent home." He paused and squinted up at the sky, "Or is that a stern warning and a free lunch voucher for fried chicken?" The Doctor shrugged, "I never can remember those sorts of things."

Holding out his sonic, the Doctor pointed it at each of the crossroads. It was silent until it was aimed towards the street going off to their left. Then the device began giving off a series of rapid bleeps.

"I take it that means we run to the left, yeah?" Clara asked.

"Yes, precisely. But I suggest we walk. I don't think it's very far now, and I'd prefer it that we didn't draw attention to ourselves."

"How'd you get that thing to home in on the car, anyway?"

"The police use specific radio frequencies. I've set the sonic screwdriver to detect the one that particular vehicle was using."

"Er—but what if it's picking up the same frequency from a different police car?" Clara pointed out.

"Oh, I can't be bothered with such trivial details." The Doctor waved her question away as if he were swatting at a pesky fly. Striding off down the road he called to her, "Come on, then. Bash on!"

_##_

Safara's partner had found the boy a pair of flip flops, and she knelt beside the open door of the car and put them on his feet. Then made sure his oversized pyjamas were securely rolled up to make sure he wouldn't trip on them. She turned worried eyes on him. He looked almost catatonic, now. Taking him by the hand, she walked him up to the front door of the home at the address Charlie had given her and buzzed the intercom.

"Yes?" Came what sounded like an older woman's voice from the other end.

"I am with the police, madam. I must speak to you regarding a matter of some urgency." Safara said politely.

"Oh? Is it about my husband? Hang on, I'll be there in a moment."

True to her word, the door opened a few minutes later and a woman of late middle age stood there. Her slightly graying long hair was astray and she wore a nervous expression.

"That was certainly quick, I must say,. I only rang you fifteen minutes ago. Have you found him?" She asked, wringing her hands. "My husband Mark, I mean. I woke this morning and he was gone. Just...gone. Left his wallet, his car keys, all of his clothes. Even his slippers. I don't know what to think. He's never done anything like this before."

The woman was so agitated that she hadn't even seemed to notice the little boy standing beside Safara.

"Perhaps he went looking for your son, here?" Safara suggested, tilting her head down at the child.

"What?' The woman seemed genuinely perplexed at this. "We don't have a son. We were never able to have children, sadly. Is that what this is about? You're not here about Mark?"

"I'm sorry, no. But I'm sure we'll find him, don't worry. I am here about the boy. This child was found early this morning. On this street. Alone. From what I understand he mentioned someone named Margaret. But we've been able to get nothing else out of him, unfortunately. Do you know anyone by that name around here? A neighbor, perhaps?"

"M—my name is Margaret." The woman looked startled. "I don't know anyone else around here who shares my name. Perhaps you should come in, constable."

As Safara seated herself and the boy on the lounge sofa, Margret asked if the boy had eaten. She replied that she didn't think anyone had had the time for it at the station. So the older woman bustled into the kitchen to bring some milk and biscuits in to the boy and make tea.

Safara's partner glanced casually at them going inside, before turning his attention on a young woman riding her bicycle past his car. He didn't notice a sudden, bright green flash, flickering briefly behind the net curtains of the lounge.

Looking back at the house a few minutes later, the constable manning the car radio was startled to see a little girl exit the premises. That's because the girl was wearing a uniform identical to Safara's, only it was way too big. Like it belonged to an adult. The girl was walking as if asleep. Suddenly, she tripped over the too-long trouser leg and fell. The little girl began to cry loudly. Still, no one from the home she'd just exited seemed to notice.

The constable got out of the car and went over to the girl. Kneeling beside her, he said "There, there, my love." He consoled her gently. "It's alright. Let's have a look at you. Where's your mum, then? Inside?"

"She's...she's in Newham." The little girl told him.

"You don't live here?" 

"No, of course I don't, silly. I live in Newham, with me mum and dad."

"OK, let me take a look at you, make sure you're not hurt. What's your name, love?"

The little girl's sobs had ceased, but she still had tears on her face when she looked up at the constable. "My name's Safara."


	4. Chapter 4

_Apologies for the delay between writing chapters four and five. A brief but pesky illness kept me from writing. But, here's a couple of short chapters to help keep things going. NBG._

Chapter 4

"Now, this isn't a joke, you understand?" The policeman said to the little girl. "Why don't you let me take you back inside, OK?"

"No! No!" The girl shrieked, pulling away from the man. "I don't wanna' go back. I won't go back. You can't make me!"

The girl turned to run away and nearly fell. She found herself being held up by a tall man in a dark suit. She looked up at him and he smiled. The girl burst into tears.

"I have to say, you have a real way with kids, Doctor." Clara told him.

Crouching down, she took the girl into her arms and began trying to soothe her, stroking the girl's hair and murmuring reassurances.

"Why do you think I make the point to never travel with kids and animals in my TARDIS?" The Doctor frowned.

"Thought you liked children?" Clara said, raising her eyebrows in surprise.

"I do. Children are wonderful. As long as they're somebody else's. I'm not exactly into that whole domestic thing, in case you haven't noticed. What's wrong with her, anyway?" he asked Clara gruffly."

"Is this the Time Lord version of Victor Meldrew syndrome? Don't care for it. Maybe I should handle this one, Doctor. Got a tissue, by any chance?"

"I have one." The policeman said, who had come up and was standing behind her.

Clara thanked the man and dried the girl's tears. She asked very softly, "Can you tell me what happened? What scared you, sweetheart? It's OK, we won't make you go back inside. We'll keep you safe, I promise."

"I—I'm not sure." The girl said in a small voice.

"Well, let's start from the beginning. What's the last thing you remember?" Clara gave her an encouraging smile.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Before the little girl could open her mouth to explain, a terrible scream came from inside the house she'd just exited. Before anyone else could react, the Doctor was already sprinting for the front door. A woman was yelling for help, her voice choking with abject terror. Then, almost ominously, there came an abrupt silence.

The Doctor had almost reached the door when it burst open, splinters and chunks of wood flying everywhere. Forced to leap back, his arm thrown protectively across his face, the Doctor fell. Out of the door leaped a creature such as Clara had never seen before. The child beside her began to whimper, so she wrapped arms protectively around Safara. All the while keeping an anxious eye on the Doctor.

From his rather undignified sitting position on the pavement, the Doctor looked up at the creature which now stood over him. He raised a curious eyebrow.

The creature was a burly male, dressed in ragged, dirty, medieval style clothing. It was about half the size of an adult. It had a normal human body from the neck down. However, the head was like a grotesque parody of a human head. Around its neck was a shaggy brown mane like a lion. It's forehead and front of the scalp was sharply split into a V-shape from the bridge of the nose.

It had wide, slanted, almost feline gold eyes. A thin fringe of hair formed between the eye and a prominent thin cheekbone, becoming longer as it tapered back towards the creature's otherwise bare head. It had an enormous, eagle-like beak of a nose. It's skin sagged slightly around a wide mouth, ending in a steeply pointed chin. But the oddest thing about the creature was its enormous square teeth, which he bore in a wide, triumphant grin as he stared down at the Doctor.

The creature was holding a dagger in one hand. In the other it held what appeared to be a small perspex box, which gave off a green, gently pulsing, glow.

Smiling back at the creature, the Doctor's eyes lit up. "I know you! You're one of the Four Beasts of the Tor of Krell. Better known as the Goji. What the humans call a gargoyle. But that's wonderful! I thought you were all extinct. You were all defeated in the Last Battle of Lornesse. Wiped out by the twelve combined armies of the Merovingian kings."

The creature didn't bother to answer. It merely gave a vicious laugh and pressed a button on top of the perspex box it was holding. Clara and the policeman both had to shield their eyes from the sudden flash of blinding green light.

When Clara looked again, the creature had vanished. Where the Doctor had been, was now a fourteen year old boy, wearing the Doctor's over-sized clothing.

He looked down at himself and frowned. "Oh dear. I'm do hope I'm not going to have to stand on a chair to pilot the TARDIS, now. That would be far too humiliating."


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

"Why are you fussing with that? We need to get back to the TARDIS. Now." The boy said crossly to Clara, as she knelt down to readjust his too long trouser legs.

"Fine. If you really want to regenerate again, because you tripped on your trousers and broke your neck, who am I to stop you?" She replied pointedly, raising an eyebrow at him.

"Erm—right." The boy frowned, then shrugged shoulders lost in the folds of the suit. "Good point. Just do try to hurry if you would please, Clara. I need to put a trace on the energy readings from that device the Goji was using."

"Yeah." Clara nodded, standing up. "What was that?"

"I've no idea." The boy said. "I may not know how it works...yet. But I know what it's for, and it isn't for anything good."

"And it's for...?" Clara let the sentence hang, waiting for him to let her in on what was happening.

"It's some sort of hormonal growth reversal processor, I believe. Originally, the Goji used to be able to just touch a victim to make them younger. But as their race developed over the aeons, that natural ability began to fade. Probably due to in-breeding, I expect. They were hunted down by other races, including the Time Lords. As a result, their numbers slowly shrank over time from tens of millions, to mere hundreds. So, they developed artificial means to effect a transference. But I thought that technology was lost when they finally died out."

"Obviously they use this device to make adults into children again. I get that, Doctor." Clara nodded. "But, why? What's it for?"

As he adjusted his sleeves, the Doctor answered, "The Goji are a parasitical race, Clara. Distantly related to the Weeping Angels. They come from the same planetary system, actually. As you know, the Angels send you back in time, feeding off all your lost moments. Yes? Well, these creatures don't require nearly as much energy as that. They simply make you young again. Feeding off your emotions as you grow up. And of course, with the confusion and fear of adults suddenly becoming children again, there's an extra boost for them. Sort of like a sugar rush, I suppose. To the Goji, humans are the chocolate of the universe, you're such an emotional race."

"Better to be emotional, then to become like a Dalek or a Cyberman." Clara sniffed.

"Yes. Quite right!" The boy Doctor smiled. "Thankfully, I'm so old it only made me a teenager again. Instead of a young child," he nodded to Safara, sadness abruptly clouding his eyes, "like that police woman over there."

Clara glanced at Safara. The girl was sitting in the back of the police car, sobbing softly. It was heartbreaking to hear.

"Can you change her back? And what about you? Can you change back, as well? Or am I going to have to be your minder until you come of age. Which could take a while, Doctor. Because I've a feeling you never really grew up in the first place."

The Doctor bit his lip, looking worried. He said softly, "I honestly can't say, Clara. It's never been tried before."

He smiled, to seem positive. When in reality, he really wasn't feeling that way at all.

"But, there's a first time for everything, I suppose. I'll try. But first I need to find the Goji and get a look at that mysterious device of his. And we can't do that standing around her, flapping our jaws."

"Hold on there a minute, little man. I want to have a word." The policeman said as the Doctor turned to leave.

"Little man? Little? Me?" The Doctor said indignantly. He paused, conceding, "Well, yes, I suppose I was in my seventh regeneration. But that's beside the point. If you'll pardon the pun constable, but are you trying to belittle me? Because quite frankly..."

"Oy! Take it easy now. I'm not trying to do anything but get some information from you. Now, where'd you come from? What's your name? Do you know who these two children are?"

The policeman had brought the boy from the home, and had seated him in the back of his car alongside Safara. He'd taken a notebook and pencil from his pocket and was apparently waiting to write down some information. He got his answers quickly.

"Galifrey. The Doctor. And the boy I suspect is the husband of the woman who lived in that house. And the girl is your partner, Safara. Now if you don't mind, I really must be on my way. Otherwise, a lot more adults around here are going to get much younger and shorter before the day is over."

"Right. I don't think this is the time for jokes, young man." The policeman said sternly. Then he realized what the Doctor had said. "Wait. You said the woman who _lived _in the house. What did you mean by that?"

"I think you should know better than I, constable. You just came from inside there." The Doctor responded cryptically.

"Let's say there may have been a death." The Policeman said guardedly. "How would you know that, then?"

"Isn't that rather obvious?" The Doctor asked impatiently.

"Not to me it isn't, young man."

"Young? Young?" The Doctor snorted. "I'll have you know that I'm..."

"Erm—Doctor." Clara interrupted. Leaning towards his ear, grateful for once that he was shorter than she was, she explained softly, "Ix-nay on the age-ay. He believes you're a child. So I don't think telling him you're a thousand years old will help, yeah?"

"Oh, alright. Whatever you say." The Doctor sighed resignedly. "Look, constable. A woman screamed. Then she stopped. Rather abruptly. Then a Goj—I mean, a really scary monster, came crashing out of the house. I think it's safe to assume that she's very probably dead, don't you?"

"OK, I'll buy that." The policeman nodded. "For now, anyway. But what about these other kids? And I mean, be serious this time. Do you know them or not?"

"Not personally, no. Sorry." The Doctor said quickly. "Can we go now, constable?"

"It's getting late. I really should take him home." Clara lied. "Or his mum will be furious."

"My mum? Ooaff!" The Doctor said, as she gave him a hard nudge in the ribs. "Oh, right. Mum's making me a special tea today, constable. It's my er—birthday. Mustn't be late. So we'll just be off, ta."

Grabbing Clara by the hand, the Doctor made to leave. But he was once again restrained by the policeman.

"Terrific." The Doctor said, rolling his eyes. "What is it this time?"

"You two aren't going anywhere. I'll call your mum and sort everything with her, don't worry."

"Where are we going?" Clara asked, fearing she knew the answer already.

"Back with me."

"Oh, not again!" The Doctor exclaimed, throwing his hands up in the air. "And while I'm drinking tea and donuts with you, every single adult in the area of Greater London will be turned into toddlers. Wonderful!"

"Looks like the creche business will be booming." Clara muttered. As she and the Doctor squeezed into the back of the car with Safara and the other boy.

"That's not funny." The Doctor told her. "The more energy the Goji absorbs, the more powerful he'll become. No one—not even me, will be able to stop him. Think of it, Clara. A world full of children. No responsible adults to take care of them. Or of anything else. It will be the end of life as you know it."


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Sitting in the back of the police car, wedged in beside the children, the Doctor looked decidedly unhappy. He was sat with his arms folded, openly pouting. Clara was hard pressed not to laugh at him. However, she knew the Doctor was only upset because he couldn't get back to his TARDIS.

Just then, the boy began to giggle. Safara looked at him, and then she began to laugh, also. Uncontrollably laughing, the two of them couldn't seem to stop.

Clara laughed with them, at first. Before she realized something wasn't quite right. The laughter sounded almost...she groped through her mind for the right word. The only one that came to her was, bonkers. She had to yell, because between the children's fits and the policeman shouting at them to settle down, it was the only way she could be heard.

"What's wrong with them?" She asked the Doctor.

"Hysterics. Their minds can't cope. They may be children now, but somewhere inside their brain, part of them is still an adult." The Doctor shouted back, his boy's voice cracking slightly. "The adult and the child are at war with each other. It can drive them quite mad, sometimes."

The policeman finally pulled the car over to the kerb. He got out and opened the door, motioning for the Doctor and Clara to join him.

"Look, you two." He sighed, "I can't drive this way. You need to pipe down, Yeah?"

"And you, constable," the Doctor retorted, "need to let me get to work so I can stop anyone else from getting hurt."

"Listen mate, who are you to go ordering me about, eh? I don't take orders from a kid."

"If it bothers you that much, think of me as your surrogate mum. On second thought, better not. I would look silly wearing a dress at this age."

"Let me get this right. You want me to just let you go on your merry way?"

"By George!" The Doctor slapped the side of his head, "I think he's got it!"

In the car, the two children began wailing even harder.

Sighing and throwing up his hands in resignation, the policeman said,. "OK, OK. I give in. Why don't you both just give me your address and phone numbers, and you can go. I will contact you if I need you for anything. These kids have to be taken to the NPSCC for an eval. Alright?"

"NPSCC?" The Doctor asked. His youthful face scrunched up in puzzlement. "What's the Netherlee Pencil Stylus and Crayon Club have to do with this?"

"I think he means child services, Doctor." Clara said.

"Ah. Right. Of course he does." The Doctor quickly walked away, giving the policeman a backward wave. "Good luck, constable. Have a doughnut on me. Come on then, Clara. Shift yourself. You can have a doughnut later. We're wasting daylight."

"He's a bit rude." The policeman told her. "Still, I suppose these days, that's the norm for someone his age."

"Trust me. It'd be normal for him even if he was a thousand." Clara said, as she bustled to catch up with the Doctor.

"I need to find a way to trace that device. Somehow I don't think my enemies will take me quite as seriously with acne and a squeaky voice."

"Hang on, Doctor." She said. "One of your trouser legs is coming down. Let me fix it." As she finished rolling the trouser back up, Clara stood looking the Doctor skeptically up and down. "I would think you Time Lords would have developed, I dunno', some kind of hormonal replacement therapy or something."

His head came up. Eyes shining, the Doctor embraced her suddenly. "Oooh, Clara. You're a genius! I could kiss you!"

"Erm—better not, Doctor. You're a little too young for that." She said, quickly stepping away from him. "I wouldn't want to be questioned by the police again. Third time in one day would be a bit much."

"But, don't you see?" The Doctor told her, his voice breaking pitch in his excitement.

"Nope." She shook her head. "Not a clue."

"That's exactly what I can do! I'd completely forgotten about that particular medical procedure. It's so ancient and primitive, that my people hadn't needed to use it for millions of years. It goes back even before Rassilon's time. Before we evolved into self-regeneration. Back then, we had to use artificial means. I can simply plug my bio scan into the TARDIS matrix circuits and scan my DNA, reproduce the missing extra cellular and genetic material, and basically grow me back to my own age!"

"And then you'll be back to normal again?"

"Theoretically, yes." The Doctor nodded.

"Theoretically? You mean you've never tried it?"

"Well, no. I've only read about it, in the Great Medical Text of Artimathesis. But I'm sure it will work. It's not like rebuilding myself from scratch. That would be nearly impossible."

"And if it doesn't work?" Clara asked, suddenly concerned.

"Oh, I'll probably either turn into a infant, or stay the way I am forever." He answered blithely, as they walked up to the TARDIS. " It's sort of like pulling the lever on a fruit machine." He grinned at her, "You won't know what you get until those wee fruits stop spinning around. I could simply age to death and never regenerate."


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

As they neared the place where the Doctor had left the TARDIS, Clara pondered, "Alright, I think I understand the basics of what you're going to do. But, this hypothetical fruit machine of yours. What you're telling me is, that if you pull the lever and come up all lemons, you'll be back to your old self again. All sunshine and roses, I get that. But if you come up with two oranges and a pineapple...?"

"Other than having the perfect ingredients for one of those fruity drinks they serve with the little paper umbrellas, you mean? Ooh, I do love those." The Doctor shrugged, "Then, I'd say that there's the very real chance that if I don't die on the spot, I may revert to an age too young for me to remember how to fly the TARDIS, use the sonic screwdriver, or read a book. Which wold be a disaster, because I love a good book, me."

"You mean I'll be giving you your fruity drink through a sippy cup." Clara laughed dryly. Then she frowned. "Wait a minute, Doctor. Hang on," She said, pulling on his arm as the stood before the TARDIS doors, "I just thought of something. That constable back there. He acted like nothing registered. As if he didn't even see a monster come crashing through that woman's front door."

"It's not a monster, Clara." The Doctor said softly, narrowing his eyes as he glared up at her. "Call it a creature, if you must. Humanoid, insectivore, android, animal, a download. An alien, like me. Whatever you wish. But never a monster. Got that? There are no such things as monsters."

"What? Not even vampires and werewolves?" Clara asked mischievously.

When the Doctor continued to silently glower at her, she shrugged, "OK, Doctor, I'll go along with that. There are no monsters. No offense intended. But you still haven't answered my question. Why didn't that constable say anything about the creature? He had to have seen it. He was standing right there!"

"Listen, Clara. I really don't have time for this." The Doctor huffed, storming into the TARDIS. "All the time, all around the world, you humans see ghosts and UFO's with your very own eyes. Then most of you go 'round and say it never happened. Why, you ask? I'll tell you why."

"Not all of us are like that, Doctor. But please do go on. Can't wait for this little explanation." Clara sniffed. She crossed her arms, waiting for him to finish, as the TARDIS door slammed shut behind her.

Flashing her a sardonic grin, the Doctor said, "No Clara, not everyone. Certainly not anyone I'd ever allow inside my TARDIS. Just the idiots. Which by my reckoning, take up about four tenths of the world's population, these days. Nearly half of those in the United States. At least we landed in Great Britain. Thank Rasillon for that."

"That's lovely." Clara rolled her eyes. "Look, Doctor. If all you're going to do is stand there and take cheap shots at the human race, I might as well go and put the kettle on. I can sit here and have a nice cup of tea while I wait for you mood to change. Which should be in about..." she checked her watch, "ten minutes?"

"Are you saying that I have mood swings?" The Doctor asked indignantly. "I'll have you know, Clara, that Time Lords do not do that...that..._sort_ of thing. I simply change my mind a lot, that's all."

"OK, whatever you want." Clara shrugged. "We'll table this discussion of Time Lord menopause for another day, then. First things first, then. You need to get back to your old self again—hopefully, anyway. What can I do to help?"

The Doctor was scowling at the console, this time. He'd found that even standing on tip-toe, he couldn't quite reach all the TARDIS controls.

"You can find me a chair to stand on, for a start."


	9. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Following his precise—if sometimes confusing, instructions, Clara helped hook the Doctor up to the TARDIS console. He lay stretched out on the floor of the control room wearing an oversized cotton hospital gown. It was marked with '_Royal Hope Hospital_' and '_Property of NHS_' printed on the front. Wires of many colours were attached to his body, held in place by sticky tabs such as those used by EKG technicians.

As Clara understood it, he'd placed himself on top of a thick rubber pad with a sheet draped over it, in order to prevent her from being accidentally shocked by any electrical currents emitted by his body.

The fourteen year old Doctor's face gazed anxiously up at Clara. His voice cracked slightly as he asked, "Are you sure you what to do, now? Don't you think you should write this all down? In case you forget something?"

"You have to trust me, Doctor." Clara reassured him, "Just like I trust you. Now relax. I promise I'll do everything you told me to. I've gone over all of it three times with you, already. I don't need a list."

"What about that time I sent you to Tesco's? Hmm—? You told me then you didn't need a list. But of course you forgot the croissant. I mean, how on earth do you expect me to have my morning coffee without a croissant? My god, that was absolutely barbaric! It was like that time I asked Leela to brew me a cuppa." He shuddered, "Bleurgh! Awful stuff. Took me weeks to get the smell of sick out of my scarf."

"You're never going to let that go, are you?" Clara asked ruefully, shaking her head in resignation. "Something tells me I going to hear about it until the end of time."

"I've been to the end of time. Trust me, you don't want to go there." The Doctor muttered. "Would you believe they never even heard of a croissant? And you don't want to know what the coffee tasted like."

"Doctor." Clara said softly, as she crouched down beside the Doctor. Touching him gently on the shoulder, she added, "I know you're scared. And it's OK. Really, I understand."

"Scared? Scared? I think you'll find that I don't frighten easily, Clara. I'm absolutely fine, as it happens. What would make you think that I'm afraid?" The Doctor sniffed.

"Because you're changing the subject. Avoiding the inevitable. And that's OK. Really, it is. You know why? Because if you weren't at least a tiny bit scared right now, that would make you some sort of god. Because only gods are perfect, Doctor."

"I never said I was perfect, Clara." The Doctor frowned.

"Good." She winked at him, "Because people who think they're perfect are dead boring. Not to mention a tad delusional. And seriously in need of some therapy. Thing is, Doctor, I don't travel with you because you're some omnipotent being. I hang out with you because you're one of the most genuine people I've ever met."

Bending down to give him a quick peck on the cheek, Clara continued, "That, and you're my best friend. You may be able to regenerate, but you can't fool me. I know you're still mortal enough to be afraid of dying. And if you weren't," She smiled as she stood, "I wouldn't go near you with a ten meter pole. Can't stand anyone that pompous."

Clara placed her hand over her heart. "My word of honor, Doctor, I will do everything you taught me. By the book. I'm not letting anything happen to you if I can help it. You're the only one who knows how to fly this thing."

"Alright, Clara." The Doctor said quietly, turning his head away from her. "I'm sorry. I do trust you."

Yeah, I know. OK," she asked, jerking her head towards the console, "You ready for this?"

"No." The Doctor said nervously. "But go ahead, anyway. Remember, turn the retro-stabilizer dial to the right. Keep your eye on the monitor. The matrix's molecular-genetic stream should be constant. And do not to press the green button until the yellow one lights up. Then the blue one. Green, yellow, blue. Got that?And count off exactly five seconds between each sequence. If you don't do this properly, Clara, the TARDIS could end up instantly vaporizing itself and the entire solar system."

"Er—right." Clara nodded, as she stood with her hands poised over the console. "So no pressure at all then, yeah?" Taking a deep breath she muttered, "Maybe I should have made a list."

"What's that?" He called to her.

"Nothing, Doctor! OK, brace yourself. Here goes."

Taking a deep breath, Clara nervously grasped a device on the console which bore a resemblance to a shovel handle. Her white-knuckled hand slowly inched the switch forward to the first line marker. It was difficult, because the switch was stiff with disuse. Then Clara carefully went on to the second mark. She stopped when the switch clicked into the mark three setting. Sparing a glance at the monitor screen, she twisted a dial which looked like a combination lock to the right.

The console made a loud humming noise, which slowly began to build in pitch. Suddenly, an orange-blue aura shrouded the Doctor's body. His limbs started to twitch and sweat broke out on his forehead. As the yellow button lit up, the Doctor's body twisted in a spasm. Clara didn't notice. She was concentrating on watching both the monitor and the lights. The console noise built in crescendo until it was a throbbing whine. Unconsciously holding her breath, she counted a slow five and then pressed down.

The moment Clara pressed the blue button, the console began to shake. Sparks flew and white smoke wafted into her face, making her cough. The aura around the Doctor changed. It became a brilliant yellow, sparkling light. His face was contorted with pain as his body began to change back to that of an adult . Without warning, there was a bright flash that caused Clara to shield her eyes with her arm. The Doctor gave a horrific scream of agony.

Then, there was silence. The control room went dark, as smoke poured from the console. Clara turned anxiously and ran towards the Time Lord's prone body.

"Doctor! Doctor, are you alright?" Fear began to settle like an iceberg in her stomach when there was no response. "Hang on, I'm coming."

Clara's face was bathed in the red glow of the emergency lights, as she bent over the Doctor's pale, still form. She checked his pulse, then put an ear to both his hearts. Nothing. Clara felt tears welling up in her eyes. The Doctor was dead.


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

The Doctor's body lay still, his open eyes staring upwards. There was no fire or humour in them now. They were like an empty champagne glass after a party. Clara, kneeling beside him, looked down upon his pale, waxy face.

He'd successfully aged himself back to the same Doctor she'd known before they'd encountered the Goji. Yet, apparently it had all been for nothing. The entire process had been too much for his hearts to bear. A single tear rolled down her cheek, as she reached out her hand to close his eyes for the final time.

Clara instantly sprang backwards with a startled yelp, "Oh my god!"

With a mighty gasp, the Doctor had sat bolt upright. Immediately, the colour began to return to his face. His chest heaved as he wiggled his fingers and toes. Clara sat back and boggled at him.

"What's with the stare? Have I some broccoli in my teeth or something? " The Doctor spoke in a hoarse whisper.

Clara was momentarily speechless. She simply continued to gape at him, while her mind tried to register his sudden resurrection. The Doctor seemed more annoyed, than anything. Raising an eyebrow, he gave a disgusted snort.

"Really now, Clara. That is just plain rude. Look at you. Mouth hanging open like a frog catching flies. One would think you've just seen a ghost or something."

Her response was to give him a resounding slap on the cheek. And now it was the Doctor's turn to boggle at Clara.

"What the—? Clara, have you gone abso-blinking-loutely mad?"

"That's for making me think you were dead, you idiot." Clara retorted savagely. Partly because she was embarrassed to be crying in front of him.

Cross as much with herself as with him, Clara brushed away her tears with the sleeve, trying to calm down enough to speak rationally.

"There's something you should know about me, Doctor, I don't particularly enjoy watching people I care about, die. How dare you make me go through that again."

The Doctor's features softened somewhat. He looked down at his bare knees.

"Oh, right. Yes. I'll certainly try not to from now on, Clara. But I can't predict everything that will happen to me. Certainly not a temporary near-death coma brought on by induced cellular-genetic regeneration. As you said," he added in a chiding tone, "I'm not some perfect deity."

"I suppose not." She sighed, as she helped him remove the wires from his body. "But don't you _ever _do that to me again. At least, not unless you're really are dead. For real, I mean. Not in some weird temporary Time Lord coma."

"Now that we've got the drama out of the way, we can—ouch! Would you mind leaving me some skin while you're about it?" He whinged.

"Were you this squeamish when your mum ripped off a sticking plaster?" Clara asked.

The Doctor didn't answer. He merely glared indignantly at her and winced again, as Clara removed another of the wires. The little square electrode tabs which had affixed them to his chest, arms, and legs were harder to pull off than to put on, it seemed.

"And make sure you get them all. There's always one that ends up forgotten. Usually in a hard to reach area. I hate that."

A short while later, the Doctor had changed back into his now-properly fitted clothing. He was at the console, engrossed on working out how to find the Goji.

"Are you sure you'll be able to find it?" Clara asked, peering around his shoulder.

"Quite possibly, yes. If the TARDIS picks up any unusual energy readings, they will likely be from that device the Goji was using on his victims."

"And if you come up with nothing, then what?"

The Doctor hesitated. Unsure for a moment how much he wanted to tell her. Then, he sighed. He did trust Clara. And now was a good time to show it.

"Then I'm afraid all is lost. There will be nothing I can do to save this planet. Because the more energy the Goji absorbs, the more powerful it becomes. Even the Daleks and Cybermen would fall victim to it. In fact, I'd probably not be able to save anything. Not a single planet or species in all the universe."


	11. Chapter 11

_To anyone actually reading this story, sorry about the long delay between chapters. Life stuff, etc. got in the way of my writing again. Thanks for reading, NBG._

Chapter 11

A short time later, the Doctor was in his shirt sleeves, frantically piloting the TARDIS, which bucked and jumped so much that Clara had to hang on for dear life. Sweat rolled off the Doctor's forehead, and his eyes blazed with fierce determination, as he did his best to help his beloved ship weather the rough going. The central column on the console rapidly rose and fell, wheezing like an old woman struggling uphill with a load of shopping.

"What's going on? Why's the TARDIS acting this way?" She shouted at him.

"There's some kind of odd gamma magnetic residue interfering with the chronons inside the vortex." The Doctor answered without bothering to take his eyes off the console. "It's creating a force three warp swell on the Novikov scale. The TARDIS is trying to compensate for the rough going by freeboarding. Like a sailing ship, balancing herself against the storm."

Just then, everything went still. The Doctor watched as the central column abruptly juddered to a halt. flipped the monitor towards him, frowning deeply at the concentric circles and lines that formed the Galifreyan language.

"We've stopped." Clara said cheekily, leaning to peer over his shoulder.

In response, the Doctor only gave a non-committal grunt. Then Clara had to duck aside and the Doctor suddenly ran across the room. Shrugging back into his jacket, he paused before the door.

"Aren't you coming with me?" He asked her.

"Erm—coming where? If you don't mind my asking. Or is this meant to be a surprise?" She raised an eyebrow at him.

"Well, it'll certainly be a surprise to me. I've no clue where we are. Or when. The readings are off. No telling if we've traveled ten minutes forward or ten million years backwards." His eyes twinkled as he added, "I love it when that happens. It's like those little plastic toys they used to put in cereal boxes. You never knew which one you'd got, until you grabbed your hand in there and rummaged it out from the bottom. Now let's go and see if we can dig out the Goji. Come on."

The door creaked open and Clara's nose was immediately assaulted by a very unpleasant smell. Probably because the TARDIS had landed behind a very large—and apparently fresh, pile of manure. They seemed to be in a small village of some sort. Primitive wattle and daub huts were scattered about a muddy clearing. A light rain was falling.

Looking about, she saw a duck sitting in a puddle looking quite pleased with itself. Around the side of one hut, a bedraggled looking mule was standing hip-shot, tied to a tree. But they were the only sign of life here. No one seemed to be about.

Clara noticed that there didn't seem to be any smoke coming from any of the buildings, and the place was eerily silent, but for the rattle of the wind in the leafless trees, and the rain dripping from the roofs.

"Huh. No one here. At least we don't have to worry about being chased by angry natives with pitchforks and torches." Clara said to the Doctor.

"Why would they do that?" The Doctor said, giving her a curious look.

"Call it a hunch, Doctor. But I don't think it's every day these people have a time machine land right under their noses."

"They don't tend to do that, Clara. Usually I just act like I own the place and go about my business. No fuss or bother from the native population."

"Waughhhh! Die you demons, die!" Came a shout behind them.

The Doctor and Clara both whirled about in time to see a roughly dressed peasant charging at them with a very sharp looking wooden pitchfork.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

With another enraged scream, the angry villager tore across the clearing at them. The mule snorted, pulling back on it's tether and the duck quacked and flapped in protest. Standing in front of Clara the Doctor palmed his sonic screwdriver, aiming it at the charging peasant.

"What good's that gonna' do?" Clara snorted. "It's a wooden pitchfork he's got, not a locked door."

"Have you got any better ideas? If so, I think now would be a quite a good time to let me know." The Doctor answered curtly.

"Run! We run. We're rather good at running, if you'll remember." Clara told him.

"Rather late for that, I'm afraid. Nice idea, though. I'll give it a six out of ten. Afraid you've lost points for lack of originality."

"Glad I never had you grading my exams, Doctor." she muttered under her breath.

"Here! Catch!" The Doctor said abruptly, throwing the sonic screwdriver over his shoulder.

Giving a shout of surprise, Clara barely had time to grab at the sonic, before the Doctor whirled about, whipping out of his jacket.

As the peasant charged up to them, the Doctor did a graceful side-step and threw the jacket over the pitchfork. He then used it to yank the pitchfork right out of the peasant's hands. The man barely had time to register his surprise, when the Doctor used his own weapon against him to trip the peasant. It sent the man sprawling into the mud, face first.

As the Doctor stepped away from him, Clara half expected the man to bound up and attack them, so savage had been his attempted assault. Yet, instead the man only cowered in fear at the Doctor's feet.

For his part, the Doctor seemed to be taken slightly aback at this sudden change in the peasant's attitude. Clara gave shot him a cross look when the man began to sob uncontrollably.

"Now see what you did, Doctor?" She said, crouching down by the weeping peasant. "You made him cry. Shame on you."

As soon as his mouth closed, the Doctor protested, almost whinging, "But...I didn't..."

"Yes, you did. I think you should apologize for scaring the poor man." Clara countered.

"But...but..." the Doctor stammered..."he was trying to murder us, in case you hadn't noticed."

"Doesn't matter now, does it?" She shook her head. "He obviously was only afraid. So get down here and tell him you didn't mean it."

"I did mean it!" The Doctor replied, looking askance at them. "Did you think I was just going to stand there and let him turn me into some sort of medieval shish kabob? Anyway, it's not like I actually hurt the man. He's fine."

"P-please. Please." The peasant pleaded, "Kill m-me now, demons. Don't drive me mad like the others."

"Come on, Doctor. He's afraid. So get down here and help him." Clara reiterated softly.

The Doctor looked down at the muddy track where the filthy man lay, and threw Clara a sour look.

"Oh, must I really? Can't I do that from up here?" He cupped his hands and shouted down at the man, "I'm sorry!"

The Doctor raised his eyebrows at Clara and turned to leave, "See? All done. Can we go now?" Then he stopped mid-stride and abruptly squatted down beside the peasant. "Hang on. Did you say something about other people going mad? What happened?"

"P-please don't!" The man cringed away from the Doctor's touch.

In response, the Doctor's features softened. "It's alright, it's alright now." He spoke gently to the man, "I give you my word. We're not demons. And we're not here to hurt you. We're here to find the demon and take him away, so he won't harm anyone else. Now why don't we all get up from here? You can tell us what happened, hmm—? The sooner we find your demon, the better off everyone will be."

"What's your name?" Clara asked as they helped the peasant limp over to sit on a barrel outside one of the huts.

"They call me Bernefons, my lady." The peasant replied humbly, tugging at his forelock.

"Right then, Bernie." The Doctor said to the man, "You don't mind if I call you, Bernie?"

"Whatever you wish, my lord." The peasant nodded, though his puzzled expression indicated clearly that he didn't understand why his name needed to be changed.

"Not my lord, Bernie. Just call me the Doctor. Now, you said something about people going mad. What happened?"

"Did—did Romanus send you, my lord? I mean, Doctor. Sorry, my lord...er—Doctor."

"Romanus? Who's that?" Clara threw the Doctor a questioning look.

A light seemed to spark in the Doctor's eyes. "Ah. So that's why we were brought back here. The Goji's plans are far worse than I thought." He nodded to Clara, "A word in private for a moment, I think."

Stepping away to the side of the hut, the Doctor explained, "We must be in the seventh century, somewhere in France, near Rouen. It's near here were Bishop Romanus organized an army under King Dagobert to counter the invasion of the Goji. With a little help from me, of course."

"Wait a second, Doctor." Clara interrupted him. "Does that mean there might be another you, wandering about around here?"

"Oh, I'd say that's definitely the case." Said a voice from behind them.

Without turning around, the Doctor winced. "Oh, not you again."

Clara looked behind them and raised both eyebrows in surprise. "Where did you come from?"

"Oh, who cares? It's just a party crasher, Clara. Ignore him." The Doctor replied, too miffed to bother looking at the newcomer.

"Hello." Said the man, smiling and extending a hand to Clara.


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

"Wait. I remember you. I think." Clara shook her head.

"Do you really? How marvelous!" The little man said, raising his hat. "How nice to see you. Again, apparently. Though I'm afraid I don't recall meeting you. Sorry about that. That's how it is with time travel, you know. It can get a little confusing after a while. Never knowing who's coming or who's going. Or who is where he really shouldn't be, right now."

"Oh, right. I'm not supposed to be here, am I?" The Doctor shot back at the stranger. "Well, apparently I am, so tough cheese."

"It's happened again, hasn't it? Two of you in the same place at the same time. Sorry if this seems rude, but my memories are a bit hazy when it comes to the Doctor's time stream. Which one are you, then?"

The other Doctor smiled benevolently at Clara. "You're not being rude at all. Even my rather sizable brain can get a bit muddled at times. I'm currently in my sixth regeneration. Which would make me number seven, I suppose."

"What happens when I need one of you?" She asked her version of the Doctor.

"What do you usually do?" The latest version of the Doctor asked.

"There's two of you, right?"

"Yes. I have noticed that, Clara." He said, shaking his head at her apparent thickness.

"But, what if I only need one of you?" She explained. "What then? I can't call you both 'Doctor'. It would get far too confusing, wouldn't it? And 'Other Doctor' would just sound weird."

"What else could you call us, then?" Clara's Doctor asked.

"I don't know. I couldn't very well call you 'Thing One' and 'Thing Two.'

"Oooh, I rather like that." The other Doctor smiled. "Of course, I would be Thing One."

"Ah. I understand, Clara." Her version of the Doctor said, almost patronizingly. "Why don't you just call me the Doctor, like you always do. And you can call my other self, later. On your mobile. When he gets back to his own TARDIS. Where he belongs."

"This regeneration of yours came out rather cranky, didn't it?" The other Doctor replied, tapping his chin with the question mark shaped handle of his umbrella. His eyes twinkled mischievously as he asked his other self, "What happened? Wait! Don't' tell me. You got zapped by a Dalek while you were hiding in a porta-loo? Now that would be embarrassing. No wonder you're such a misery guts."

"I didn't..." The 'current' Doctor took a deep breath to stop himself from losing his temper altogether. "Look, if you have to be here, why doesn't Clara call me Doctor, and she can call you..I dunno'. How about 'Theta?'

"No one's called me that for years. Not since I met Drax on Zeos all those years ago. Still," the other Doctor sighed, "I suppose it will serve our purposes. If that's alright with you, my dear...sorry. What was your name?"

"Theta's fine. At least it's short. I won't waste time by having to call some ridiculously long and unpronounceable Time Lord name." Clara smiled and gave him a friendly wave. "Hello, I'm Clara."

"It's very nice meeting you. Wish I could say the same for my future self." Turning to the Doctor he asked, "What are you doing here? I must say, you're timing isn't very good. I'm in the middle of trying warn the bishop or Rouen that this area is about to be infested by a whole horde of Goji. Though this lot calls them dragons. Believe they breathe fire and all that. Load of poppycock, of course. It's been nice chatting with you, but I really must get back there. If we can organize enough resistance, we can finally put an end to the Goji."

"You thought you did, erm—Theta. Your lot apparently missed one out." The Doctor told him. "That's why I'm here. A Goji turned up again in early twenty-first century London. I thought it was simply planning on wreaking havoc there. Unfortunately, it was only some sort of pit stop. So the creature could obtain the energy it needed to guide itself through the vortex. And it traveled in time right back to here. To this specific time and place."

"Oh dear." Theta shook his head. "I can't say I like the sound of that."

"No, neither do I" The Doctor frowned, "I think it's trying to prevent your little uprising from ever getting started. And if that happens..."

The Theta Doctor finished his sentence for him, "...Then the population of this planet will be decimated. Either driven to madness, or run by a population of small children and infants with no idea how to survive."

"Yes," the Doctor agreed.

"What happens then?" Clara asked her Doctor.

"Theoretically speaking, if that happens human civilization would collapse. All learning and knowledge would be virtually forgotten. People might even devolve. Rather drastically, I'm afraid. Become more animal than human."

"Or, your species may simply die out altogether." Theta said somberly.

"Which is why we have to find our rogue Goji, before it can prevent Romanus from destroying its species."

"What, you mean genocide?"

"I don't like to think about it, but yes." Theta said, sadness clouding his eyes. "I suppose that's true. If there had been any other way, believe me, it would have been found. But the Goji are a danger not just to you humans. But to every single intelligent species in the universe. They must be stopped."

Just then, the three of them all turned when they heard the pounding of many hooves. Coming through the fields rode a dozen knights, their horses hooves throwing up clods of mud as they pounded into the village. The duck flapped away, scolding the newcomers. The mule rolled its eyes at the riders. It gave a loud bray in alarm, which somehow reminded Clara of the noise the TARDIS made when it materialized.

There a man among the riders whom was clearly not a knight. He dressed in fine crimson and silver robes, with a large silver and gold stole stitched with crosses hung down from his neck. On his head was a matching embroidered hat sewn with pearls and precious gems. He was carrying an ornate solid gold shaft shaped somewhat like a shepherds crook and—almost incongruously, a long sword strapped to his side.

The lead knight, dressed all in black, ordered the others, "Surround that man! He won't escape us a second time."

He pointed his war ax at Theta, as he slid his horse to a halt. The two Doctors and Clara had to duck to avoid being splattered with mud.

"We shall burn him yet, my lord bishop!" The lead knight shouted.

"Oh dear." Theta murmured. "Not again!"


End file.
